@bornsicks

She tells him too much.  She isn’t sure where it comes from, this need to tell him everything, but it’s a compulsion she doesn’t fight. Andie has been silent so long, it feels good to just empty herself. she has mood swings too-- rare-- but slightly worse than his. it is a new thing, to try and manage them without the bridge, to try and express them instead of smiling and figuring ways to iron out the creases on his forehead, sometimes she needs him just as desperately. 

“I used to wish-- someone would blot me out. I used to wish-- that..   I dunno-- that I wasn’t born, I mean-- sometimes it’s easy to wish for that. I didn’t know how to deal with it, this seemingly never ending sadness that comes sometimes. for days. dragging me into it-- especially on my birthday. Birthdays.. were the worst.” 

Her words are quiet, punctuated by a soft drunken giggle at the end of her speech.  It is 5 in the morning, and they are in venice-- in a hotel room grander than anything she’d get for herself. She is still in her dress, a red pretty little thing, with no back, but her hair is spilling everywhere, her feet are bare and she has a sleepy smile on her lips. Her eyes blink open as she focuses on Kieran. 

“This was the best one. Thank you. You’re my birthday present. I think-- after a life time of shit I get something... pretty damn good--more than good. good’s boring-- no-- you’re not boring you’re..  I dunno I can never get it right--never ever it’s like i just--can’t find the words--”

her words taper off as she shifts slightly on the bed, the zip on the side of her dress digging into her skin.  “Owchiesss.”   

she gets to her feet in one rather clumsy movement and tugs her dress off her body. She falls back into bed, in her knickers and the necklace he has bought her, catching the light as she shifts. 

“you’re the best I like my necklace-- love you--shhhh- go away.” she presses her finger against his lips. “Time for bed baby-- time for bed.” 

The living room is filled with things, brightly coloured shirts that he will wear once to make her happy-- or burn. She isn’t sure. A few shirts he might wear-- if she begged. One she’s certain he actually likes. There is wrapping paper everywhere, and a small, new presence moving through the paper with curious steps. She places the last gift on his lap. It isn’t wrapped-- it’s a first edition she had bought with him, before getting lost in back shelves and mistletoe. The smile on her lips is half memory and excitement.

Murder on the Orient Express. 

There is a white envelope sticking out of the first page, and a few more placed haphazardly through the book. She feels the need to explain, but she hangs back and waits for him to see it on his own. The envelope has an itinerary.  5 nights-- on the Venice Simpson Orient Express. They spend a day and slightly more in some places. It starts in London Paris.Venice. The other pieces of paper are places she thinks he might want to see whilst they’re in each place, written neatly in her loopy script. Littered with smiley faces. 

Send ✉ for an 2 AM text alaia: what if science isn't enough...what if all these facts aren't enough?alaia: I'm scared...alaia: ignore my rambling right now.. I guess it's just too late and I've been woking for far too long.alaia: can I come around?

Send ✘ for an unsent text alaia: maybe i love you.

alaia: fuck maybe. i...do love you.

Send ☠ for a threatening message alaia: who is she? alaia: i mean if you're embarassed to be dating the weird geeky girl it's fine- i guess we aren't even dating.. alaia: you know what..it doesn't matter, none of this matters.

Send ❤ for a lusty/loving/affectionate message alaia: i know I don't say it but I really fucking care about you.. and I wish i was better at saying it. I wish I was better at saying ..how i felt. alaia: because it's far..more than i've ever managed to articulate.